Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 142: Chapter 142

Lorenzo's expression darkened instantly. He dashed to the helicopter cockpit and urgently radioed a hospital in Auretian.
The call connected almost instantly. Though the words were inaudible, Lorenzo's expression grew increasingly grave with each passing second.
After getting the information he needed, Lorenzo immediately hung up, rushed back to Eugene, and leaned in to whisper a few urgent words in his ear.
Eugene nodded instantly. "Wake Sheila up. We're leaving now."
"On it." Lorenzo turned and strode toward Sheila's room.
The door wasn't locked from inside; it gave way at his push. Usually so vivacious and playful, Sheila couldn't even keep still in her sleep.
Hugging a pillow, she lay face down with her back arched and hips in the air, just like a plush bear sprawled out.
To make matters worse, her nightgown had ridden up to her waist, revealing those long legs.
Lorenzo's eyes blazed, a tempest of desire raging within him, but outwardly he forced himself to maintain a gentlemanly composure. Leaning close, he whispered urgently in Sheila's ear, "Sheila, wake up. We have to return to Auretian immediately. The Moore family has an emergency. Sheila?"
Sheila shot upright in bed. Her fist lashing out in a reflex before she was even fully awake.
Lorenzo clutched his nose, stars exploding in his vision as he doubled over with a pained groan. "Sheila, it's me."
Lorenzo felt something warm and sticky pooling in his palm. It was a nosebleed.
Sheila gradually came to her senses. Realizing it was Lorenzo, she immediately yanked the blanket up to cover herself and snapped, "Lorenzo, are you out of your mind? Barging into my room in the middle of the night?
"I almost thought you were some pervert. Then again, you're really not much better than one."
Lorenzo wanted to speak, but his eyeballs felt like they were about to explode from the pain. He grabbed some tissues, wiped messily, then stuffed two long strips up his nostrils. "We need to get back to Auretian now."
Seeing Lorenzo in such an unusual state—and, for once, not arguing back—Sheila immediately sensed something serious was going on. Without a hint of hesitation, she grabbed some clothes, turned her back to him, and swiftly changed out of her pajamas.
Her back formed graceful curves, her waist was sexy, and the delicate contours of her shoulder blades stood out beautifully.
Lorenzo barely had time to react before a fresh torrent of blood gushed from his nose again.
Lorenzo pressed a hand to his forehead, struggled weakly to his feet, and shoved the tissues back up his nostrils.
Sheila turned her head and saw Lorenzo fussing with his nose again. She shot him a suspicious look.
Lorenzo clutched his nose and blurted out, "I swear I didn't see your back—nor that tattoo on your lower back."
Sheila rolled her eyes. Any other time, she would've ripped his eyes right out.
Given the circumstances, Sheila picked up her shoes from the floor and slipped them on. "Let's go. You're not really a man in my eyes anyway—just one of the girls."
Lorenzo thought to himself, 'So this is heartbreak. Feels like a thousand daggers through the chest.'
Lorenzo and Sheila hurried into the courtyard.
Eugene had descended the stairs, cradling Lorraine, who was wrapped snugly in a blanket.
Utterly exhausted after what Eugene had put her through, Lorraine could only manage to half-open her eyes. Seeing the helicopter in front of her and still not sure what was happening, she murmured drowsily, "Eugene, are we going back now?"
"Yes," Eugene responded softly. With meticulous care, he tucked the blanket snugly around Lorraine, then lifted her into his arms, preparing to carry her onto the helicopter.
"Eugene, what about me?" Norah had also been woken by the bodyguards. Standing there in an exquisite silk nightgown, her makeup remained flawless—she never let her appearance slip, not even in her sleep.
In the dim moonlight, she looked like an exquisitely crafted yet lifeless porcelain doll.
Eugene shot her a cool glance, but before he could say a word, Lorraine, nestled in his arms, spoke up first with a hint of mischief in her voice. "This helicopter looks pretty basic.
"I doubt you would ever lower yourself to ride in something like this, Ms. Pedler, right?"
Lorraine didn't mean anything by it. She just suddenly remembered that Norah only ate good beef and drank spring water airlifted from Atisland. There was no way she'd ever set foot in such a basic helicopter.
Norah felt a knot of anger choking her chest, trapped between rising fury and stifled words. She hesitated, about to retort.
Eugene had already carried Lorraine onto the helicopter, while Sheila practically dragged Lorenzo along right behind.
The last person to board swiftly slammed the cabin door shut.
The pilot was already aboard, waiting. At Eugene's command, the helicopter immediately began its ascent.
The helicopter finally vanished into the darkness, becoming nothing more than a distant speck against the night sky.
Norah stood rooted to the spot, utterly dumbfounded. She could scarcely believe she'd just been so mercilessly abandoned.
Briana stepped forward cautiously and said, "Ms. Pedler, perhaps we should head back down the mountain."
"No." Norah clenched her fists, shaking her head resolutely. "I only came up here because of Eugene. I want him to climb every single step up here and personally escort me down."
'That woman in his arms looked so naive,' Norah thought with a hint of disdain. 'Because Eugene has sheltered her so thoroughly from the world.'
Lorraine didn't even know what had happened to the Moore family, let alone what Eugene was about to face next.
Norah thought to herself with quiet confidence, 'I have all the time in the world. I can wait.'
She had all the time in the world, and she could wait indefinitely. But Eugene couldn't afford to wait. It wouldn't be long before Norah showed Lorraine just what harsh reality truly meant.
The helicopter flew steadily through the night. Lorenzo stood up and began pacing restlessly around the cabin.
Sheila had never seen Lorenzo so unsettled. "Lorenzo, what the hell is going on? You dragged us out of bed in the middle of the night and rushed us back—at least tell us why."
Lorenzo opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He shot a quick glance at Eugene.
Eugene was speaking to Lorraine when he noticed Lorenzo's gaze. His words trailed off.
Eugene turned. "Queenie's critical."
Those words plunged the cabin into instant silence. Nothing but the engine's roar remained.
Sheila pressed her lips together, swallowing her words. In the end, she just glanced across the aisle.
Lorraine lowered her gaze, her face half-buried in the blanket, concealing her expression. As a med student, Lorraine understood exactly what Queenie's condition entailed.
Lorenzo kept pacing restlessly back and forth, his brow furrowed in constant tension, never once relaxing. Eugene remained silent for a moment, then quietly closed his eyes.
The flight from here to Auretian would take nearly three hours, and for the rest of the journey, no one uttered another word.
Only during the descent did Eugene silently take Lorraine's hand in his.
Lorraine jolted awake from her light doze. Her hand rested in his large palm, only to feel the cool dampness of his clammy sweat.
He kept his eyes closed, appearing to be fast asleep. But she knew—he wasn't.
They remained in quiet stillness, the dim cabin lights casting half-shadows across his striking profile, his long lashes trembling slightly.
Lorraine stared at him, not daring to blink, watching him with all her might. She was afraid that if she so much as blinked, he might just vanish into thin air.
The helicopter touched down on the hospital lawn in no time.
Lorenzo pushed open the cabin door and leapt down, steadying Sheila as she climbed out. "Come with me to the hospital, Sheila. I'll drop you home tomorrow."
Realizing how serious things were, Sheila knew this wasn't the time to be stubborn. She nodded and followed Lorenzo into the hospital building.
Eugene followed, cradling Lorraine securely in his arms while adjusting the blanket around her.
They were about to speak when they spotted Maria standing nearby. As Lorraine glanced over, Maria's eyes met hers.
They hadn't seen each other for over two months. Though they had once clicked instantly, now it felt as if they stood worlds apart, separated by an impassable chasm.
Maria dabbed at the tears in the corners of her eyes, forcing a faint smile at Lorraine—a silent greeting between them.
Eugene turned around and said to Lorraine in a low voice, "Go back to the palatial stone manor first. Wait for me there."
Lorraine nodded obediently.
Eugene bent down and placed a tender kiss on Lorraine's forehead before reluctantly releasing her from his embrace.
With that, Eugene walked over to Maria, and together they entered the hospital.
Lorraine stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly as Eugene's figure became a tiny speck and finally vanished at the elevator doors. Only then did she take a deep breath and turn toward the palatial stone manor.
The palatial stone manor was within walking distance. She could get there on foot. But the moment Lorraine took a step, an icy chill shot through her bare soles.
Lorraine glanced down. That was when it hit her. Eugene had carried her straight onto the helicopter, leaving her barefoot.
The dew-laden grass sent an icy sting through Lorraine's bare feet. Lorraine hurried across the dew-slick lawn, leaving faint footprints behind, then stepped onto the cold pavement by the roadside.
The cold was brutal, cutting straight to the bone. Lorraine curled her bare toes against the biting cold, pulled the blanket tighter around herself, and reached an intersection to wait for the light.
A white limousine pulled to a stop there, mere inches from where she stood.
The rear window rolled halfway down, revealing the strikingly handsome face of a man.
Dressed in an immaculate white suit with a deep amethyst shirt underneath, several buttons undone to hint at his sculpted chest, he lounged indolently in the back seat of the car.
His shoulder-length hair framed a pair of striking, upturned eyes, a naturally alluring gaze that hinted at mischief.
His thin lips bore a deep plum hue, exuding a dangerously seductive, devilish charm. Yet he still exuded an undeniable air of dominance.
"Didn't find the person I was looking for, but stumbled upon a barefoot girl. Here, take these." With a careless gesture, he tossed a shoebox from the car.
His voice carried a subtle, synthetic crispness—not particularly deep, yet undeniably captivating.
He flung the shoes carelessly, like tossing spare change to a beggar on the street.
"Hey—" Lorraine barely had time to call out before the car sped away, leaving her no chance to refuse.
The shoebox landed at her feet, its lid flying off to the side. A pair of sapphire-blue satin high heels tumbled out of the box, their delicate diamond-encrusted bows glinting in the streetlight.
It was clear these were no ordinary shoes, Lorraine thought to herself.
But the man was already gone. Lorraine hesitated for a moment before picking up the box, hoping to find some contact information inside.
At the bottom of the box, Lorraine actually found a shopping receipt, and gasped when she saw the price tag. It cost more than 100 thousand dollars. Not just expensive—this was daylight robbery.
Sheila drew a sharp breath and stared at the bold, sweeping signature.
Lorraine stared at the signature, her brow furrowing. 'P-e-d-l-e-r? Pedler?' she wondered to herself.